Memories Down the Lane
by Hapalochlaena
Summary: Ron Weasley has led a long fulfilling life, surviving his wife, Hermione Weasley nee Granger and sits on his deathbed waiting to rejoin her. But his great-granddaughter's youngest child, named after his own Hermione, won't let him go without one last story.


A/N

Name: Memories Down the Lane

Summary: Ron Weasley has led a long fulfilling life, surviving his wife, Hermione Weasley nee Granger and sits on his deathbed waiting to rejoin her. But his great-granddaughter's youngest child, named after his own Hermione, won't let him go without one last story.

This was written for a competition:

Round 1: The Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition

Position: Chaser 1

write about Chaser 2's favorite character: Hermione

Prompts:

1\. (dialogue) "You have about as much charm as a flobberworm."

6\. (word) luscious

10\. (word) memory

* * *

Hermione Gabriella Weasley wandered up the stairs, tiptoeing past the quiet whispers of her mommy, granma, and great-granny to her great-great-granpa's room. The past week had been filled with tears and murmurs, and Hermione thought that had to do with whatever was happening to keep her great-great-granpa Ron in his room for her entire visit.

Hermione pouted, Granpa Ron had always been her favorite because he told the best stories. He spun tales of trolls and snakes, of chessboards, and wild car rides, of dragons, and defeating evil. He would talk about his best friend Harry and Hermione, little Hermione's own namesake, and all the adventures they had at school.

She very slowly, and very quietly turned the handle to her granpa Ron's room, determined to know why she hadn't been allowed to see him all week.

"Granpa Ron?" She whispered as quietly as she knew how. She heard some rustling from his bed, and sneaked over.

"Hello, little Mia. Come for another story," Her granpa Ron peered over his glasses at her, with a wan smile. Hermione grinned brightly, climbing up on the bed to nestle into her granpa's arms.

"Now, what would you like to hear about today?" Ron asked.

Hermione tilted her head and squinted up at him. "Can you tell me when you knew you were in love with granma Hermione?"

Ron let out a breathy laugh, "Of course I can. That is one of my favorite memories of her, and I think you will, at the very least, find my misfortune on getting the rough edge of her tongue very entertaining."

* * *

Ron was hiding in a broom closet, not even for the fun things that usually happen in broom closets. (Granpa, what are the fun things that happen in broomclosets? Ah, nothing you need to know yet) Lavender was still stalking him after their horrendous breakup, and he had barely managed to get back into Hermione's good graces. He was in for a lot of sucking up, he thought, Harry had told him how thick he had been with his relationship with Lavender distracting him from his own friends.

He put his ear to the door, Lavender seemed to be gone and he would be able to make his escape. Ron eased the door open and peered out, not finding Lavender anywhere in the corridor, he made his escape. _Perhaps I should see if Hermione would like to get a butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks_, Ron thought. Entering the common room, and making a quick retreat up to the dormitory to avoid Lavender, Ron contemplated how he was to ask Hermione without upsetting her further.

"Erm, Hermione?" Ron shuffled his feet, waiting for her to look up from her Arithmancy homework.

"Yes, Ron?" Hermione only looked slightly annoyed.

"Harry said he was going to be busy with stuff for Dumbledore-" Ron started before Hermione interrupted.

"Yes, Ron. I was there for that conversation," She said frostily.

"Uhm, yeah…" Ron floundered for a moment before deciding to just blurt it out, "Do you want to go to the Three Broomsticks for a butterbeer?"

It was Hermione's turn to flounder, before she got a rather angry look on her face, "Just because you are not _canoodling_ with Lavender anymore does not mean that I will be her-her _replacement_, if you want someone brainless, and-and shallow with her make-up, and risque outfits with her _heaving bosom_ and luscious hair then you can just-"

"I wanted to apologize, Hermione!" Ron interrupted her before she could really start ranting. "I was a prat, alright, and I just wanted to tell you that you meant more than the way I was treating you."

Hermione gaped at him, and turned red before she mumbled, "I would like that-to go to the Three Broomsticks with you...You really were a prat."

Ron felt his ears turn red, and just _knew _his face was turning a clashing shade of red.

"Yeah, well I kinda made a fool of myself, and I feel like a right berk for everything with Lavender…"  
"Ron," Hermione hissed, "You have about as much charm as a flobberworm, and about as much sense as one, and I will make you grovel for at least a few weeks but," Hermione flushed face went a bit more red. "I must have as little sense to want to forgive you despite what git you've been."

Ron had to take a few moments to process that before a silly grin started to spread across his face. Hermione rolled her eyes at him with a small smile of her own, but in that moment, Ron had never felt quite as grateful or warm inside as her admission to him did.

* * *

"And then you lived happily ever after?" Little Hermione asked her granpa, who grinned at her a bit sadly.

"It was a few more years after that, and a few more mistakes on my part before that happened, my dear, but yes, we did live happily. And I will be even happier when I do finally get to see her again in our next adventure." Ron murmured wistfully. He hugged his granddaughter, and thought of his own Hermione, bushy-haired and impassioned.


End file.
